


Conqueror

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Noct to the Rescue, Royal Arms, don't mess with Noct's friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 06:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14326728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: With his friends’ lives in terrible danger, Noctis uses a Royal Arm to fight off a daemon attack at great cost to himself.





	Conqueror

**Author's Note:**

> Woo hoo, bonus Sunday fic! This one's not a request. Just total self-indulgence on my part. It's been up on Tumblr for the past few days, so now it's time to add it to my collection here ^_^
> 
> Thanks again to Voxanonymi for reminding me of the Axe of the Conqueror.
> 
> This is set pretty early in the game - pre-Titan.

Skeletal shapes stood against the rain. The Reapers gathered before Noctis, their jagged forms the only thing separating them from the trees of the Fallgrove woodland. Though he tried, Noctis couldn’t count them; more kept appearing in the darkness, slinking out from behind the trees. It wasn’t right. Reapers were supposed to stick to caverns, not roam around forests at will. And yet there they were, watching him, biding their time until they attacked again. 

Noctis stood ready, placing himself between the horde and his friends. Their initial barrage had been unexpected and over-powering; a united Death spell aimed at earning a quick victory. Noctis warped to safety, but his friends hadn’t been so fortunate. The dark magic hit Ignis, Prompto and Gladio, and only a Mega-Phoenix had saved them. Even then, it had taken every curative Noctis had to keep them from slipping into comas. Now, he was the only line of defence they had. All three were unconscious. Forcing the Reapers back with magic flasks, Noctis managed to drag them to a nearby Haven where they should’ve all been safely camping right now. The tent stood there, mocking him. He hadn’t had time to place his friends inside it; they too had to stay outside and be drenched by the heavy rain. But it didn’t matter; the Haven’s light was the only thing Noctis could rely on to keep them safe while he annihilated every damn daemon in sight.

Anger tempered his fear. He could win this. He had to win this. He’d thrown everything he had at the Reapers; every flask, every attack he’d ever learned from Gladio. But it wasn’t enough. They kept coming, spawning from the rain-smattered darkness itself. He’d exhausted his stock of flasks, and was too close to Stasis to risk raw magic or warping. 

He knew he only had one real option left.

Hand outstretched, Noctis called upon the Royal Arms. The Axe of the Conqueror solidified in his hand. His breath caught in his throat, a bitter chill biting deep into his flesh. Holding the weapon meant using his own life-force. The axe gave him wondrous power, but at a terrible cost.

There wasn’t time to hesitate. Noctis threw himself into battle, the axe swinging. The powerful weapon cut through the Reapers, decapitating them with ease and leaving the bodies to fade back into nothingness. Vengeance drove him past his limits, anger allowing him to power on. The Axe of the Conqueror was hungry for the Reapers’ blood, even if it had to drain Noctis’ life in order to slice heads from shoulders. 

But the Reapers outnumbered him, and they ducked under his guard, their blades slicing across his body. Blood spurted out of countless wounds. Noctis couldn’t move fast enough to dodge their attacks. The Axe wasn’t designed to be wielded at speed; it was slow and cumbersome. Despite the pain and the energy bleeding out of him, Noctis kept fighting, kept pushing back. If he stopped for even a second, they would overwhelm him. 

He couldn’t leave his friends. Not like this.

The rainstorm didn’t let up. Lightheaded, he struggled to find solid footing on the rain-soaked ground. Breath rasping in his lungs, vision tunnelling, Noctis relied on his ancestor’s power to see him through, even as every swing of the axe ate into him, stealing his life from him.

A Reaper grabbed him and threw him backwards. Noctis hit a tree trunk hard, the breath exploding from his lungs. Body shaking with fatigue, he risked Stasis by unleashing a raw Fire spell. The Reaper burned, staggering backwards as it batted at flames it could not put out. Those that strayed too close also found themselves burning.

And yet still the fight wasn’t over.

Pumped full of adrenaline, Noctis fought on, even as his vision fogged and the air he pulled in failed to fill his lungs. Reapers scored lucky hits, their bony fingers gouging deeps grazes wherever they managed to land a hit. Blood ran into his eyes and trailed down his arms, smeared by the rain. Noctis didn’t let it stop him. The daemons fell, one after another. And when the final Reaper tried to cast Death on him, Noctis launched himself into a risky Warpstrike. The final Reaper fell with a hiss. Noctis was finally alone. 

Vengeance was his.

Blood pulsed in Noctis’ ears. Lightheaded, barely able to catch his breath, Noctis sent the Royal Arm back into the Armiger. The drain faded, leaving a bone-deep, nauseating exhaustion in its place. As the adrenaline ebbed, the pain returned. He looked at himself and saw places where his skin hung from him in thin, ghostly white ribbons. Horrified, he swallowed a burning belch of bile. 

He reached into the Armiger, only to remember he’d used every curative he’d had to keep his friends alive when the Reapers had first attacked. Too exhausted to care, he staggered onwards, out of the trees and back to the Haven. He had to get back, had to make sure they were all okay.

Wind joined the rain. The howling downpour chilled the heat in his body. Lightning flashed, stabbing into his eyes. He wanted to press a hand to his head, but he didn’t have the energy. It took everything left within him just to stay standing. He plodded onwards on unsteady legs. The rain and the wind tried to turn him around, but he kept moving onwards. Through the trees, he could see the light of the haven. In the heat of the battle, he hadn’t realised how far he’d strayed from it. Terrified his friends could still succumb to the Reapers’ attacks, Noctis tried to move faster, only for his feet to tangle around each other. He hit the ground hard, cutting his chin open on the rocks beneath him. His vision faded behind a static buzz. The soft warmth of unconsciousness sang to him, but pain and fear dragged him back. He staggered upright.  He had to get back to his friends. 

Noctis finally reached the Haven. He pressed a hand against the glowing rocks, smiling at their warmth and light. Energy seeped into him, just enough to push the impending Stasis back. He looked up through the rain and saw his friends where he’d left them by the fire. All three were drenched, but Noctis could see, could sense, that they were all still alive. He could’ve sobbed with relief, but even that would take energy he didn’t have to spare. Instead, he reached for Prompto and gently tugged him into the tent, wrapping a sleeping bag over him. He did the same with Ignis and Gladio. Desperate to do the same, Noctis reached for his own sleeping bag.

The ground rumbled beneath his feet. The sound of metal screeching joined the rain. Noctis slipped out of the tent and found himself facing an Iron Giant. The brute, standing as close to the Haven as it could get, swung its sword at him. The Haven’s light forced it back, but the Iron Giant roared and tried again. Noctis threw himself out of the way, crying out as his injured body hit the rocks. Momentum carried him back to his feet, a surge of adrenaline ensuring he stayed there. Fear reached out for him. Fighting this daemon alone was madness, but the need to defend his friends crushed every doubt. He was in no condition to fight, but Noctis couldn’t back down. Not now. He couldn’t risk an Iron Giant overcoming the Haven’s magic.

Hand outstretched, he called on the power of his ancestors once again. This fight needed to be over quickly, and the Royal Arms where the best option he had. Axe in hand, Noctis warped and took on the Iron Giant.

* * *

The sound of metal clanging and ringing dragged Ignis from sleep. He sat up and found Gladio to his left and Prompto to his right. Both were stirring, and as they did, Ignis remembered why the three of them were in the tent at all.

And why Noctis wasn’t.

Reapers. 

Death spell. 

The sensation of the end coming very, very soon until a burst of fiery magic pulled him back from the brink.

“Noct!”

Ignis staggered out of the tent. Rain smeared his glasses. Racing around the tent, a bolt of lightning illuminated the landscape for one brief moment. That was when he saw Noctis, a crystalline axe in hand, warping into the sky and taking down an Iron Giant single-handedly. The massive daemon fell with a roar, its sword taking out an entire tree as it fell. It sank into the ground.

Light faded. Noctis landed, a black shadow in the raging storm. Ignis frowned. Something was wrong. Noctis wasn’t standing right…

“Noct!” Ignis called out again.

Noctis didn’t turn. He probably couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the storm.

“What’s going on?” Prompto’s tired voice came from the tent. “Ignis? What’s happened? I don’t remember how we got here.”

“Reapers,” Gladio said, pulling himself out the tent. “Noct brought us back.” He looked around, concern in his eyes. “Where is he?”

“Stay here,” Ignis ordered. 

He raced down to the ground. He reached Noctis’ side, taking in the dreadful sight of blood and injury. Noctis stared dead ahead, his eyes glazed over. He weaved on his feet. Ignis placed his hands gently on Noctis’ shoulders, wary of causing him pain.

“Noct, talk to me.”

Noctis blinked. Glassy eyes moved to Ignis. He swallowed several times, and even then when he spoke his voice was a breathy whisper. “Ignis?”

“It’s me,” Ignis said. “Come, we should get you back to camp.”

“You’re okay?” Noctis asked.

“We’re all okay. You saved us.”

“Oh. Okay.” His eyes brimmed with tears. “That’s great.”

“Noct?” Ignis felt the tension leaving Noctis’ body. “No, don’t –”

Ignis’ words fell on deaf ears. Noctis’ eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed into Ignis’ arms. Holding Noctis close, Ignis could hear his friend battling for breath, felt the unnatural heat of his body. A terrible feeling twisted Ignis’ gut.

Noctis had not only fought off the Reapers and the Iron Giant, he’d used a Royal Arm to do it. It had drained him, leaving him dangerously exhausted.

Ignis turned around, but he didn’t need to shout. Prompto and Gladio were already running over. Lightning flashed again, casting all of them in a sickly hue. They were in no condition to be out like this tonight. 

“What happened?” Prompto asked, voice trembling.

“Let’s get him to the tent,” Ignis said. “Gladio?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I got him.” 

Gladio lifted Noctis, cradling him gently. They ran back to the tent and slid inside. The wind tore at their shelter, but Ignis ignored it. He watched Gladio place Noctis on a sleeping bag while Prompto turned up every single lamp they had to its brightest setting. They looked at their friend, seeing the terrible wounds littering his body. Even unconscious, Noctis’ face was taut with pain. He fought for every breath.

“He used a Royal Arm,” Ignis said. “The cost must’ve been dear.” His hand brushed over Noctis’ forehead. “Dammit, he’s burning up.”

“Curatives?” Prompto asked.

Ignis shook his head. “There’s nothing left.”

“Shit,” Gladio hissed. “Why the hell did he go after them all alone?” He cracked his knuckles. “There’s gonna be hell to pay when he wakes up.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Ignis said. “Let’s just get those bandages on him and –” Vertigo churned through him, the tent fuzzing before him. He fell back.

“Take it easy.” Gladio’s hand rested on Ignis’ shoulder. “He’s okay. He’s breathing.”

Prompto laughed uneasily. “We’re all a mess.”

Ignis rubbed a hand over his face. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll do this together. And once Noct is patched up, we’re all going to need some sleep.”

“Just tell us what to do,” Gladio said.

Ten minutes later, Noctis was bandaged and a cold compress fought back the fever burning inside him. He wasn’t sleeping any easier, but at least they’d treated the worst of his wounds despite the storm battering the tent.

“Alright,” Ignis said, washing his hands and trying not to focus on the blood flowing from them. His head pounded and his whole body shook with exhaustion. “That’s the best we can do. We all need to get some sleep.” He glanced at Prompto, who was already drooping. “Turn the lights off.”

Prompto stirred himself and flipped off the lights. He slumped back into his sleeping back, his head next to Noctis’. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s no good. I can’t keep my eyes open.” He was asleep moments later.

“Get some rest,” Gladio told Ignis. “He’s alright now. And we’re safe here in the Haven.”

Too tired to argue, the adrenaline subsiding and leaving nothing in its wake, Ignis fell back into his own sleeping bag. “Keep an eye on him, won’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “I will for as long as I can stay awake.”

“Good,” Ignis said. He reached up and removed his glasses. “Thank you.”

Ignis drifted off, leaving Gladio to watch over them all. Sometimes, it paid to have spent his entire life training for combat. He was tired, sure, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Besides, he didn’t want to leave Noctis unmonitored through the night. In the dark of the tent, Gladio reached for Noctis’ wrist and held tight, keeping two fingers on his pulse to make sure his heart never stopped beating.

* * *

Birdsong filled the warm air. Ignis sat up, reaching for his glasses. Sunlight poured through the tent’s open flap. Last night’s storm was well and truly over. From outside, he could hear Prompto and Gladio speaking. Looking to his side, Ignis saw Noctis. 

“Noct?”

He stirred briefly, frowning deeply, but didn’t awaken. Ignis checked Noctis’ temperature, unhappy to still find it elevated. But he seemed to be breathing a lot easier. That set Ignis at ease.

“Sleep well,” Ignis said.

He slipped out of the tent and greeted the others. 

“Ignis, you’re up!” Prompto bounded over to him, holding out a can of Ebony. “You look better than you did.”

“I feel better,” he said. He looked Prompto over, noticing he had the colour back in his cheeks. “How are you both?”

“No need to worry about me,” Prompto said. “I think I slept the worst of it off.” He broke into a massive yawn. “You know, kinda slept it off.”

Ignis looked at Gladio. “Did you manage to get some rest?”

“Yeah,” Gladio said. He stretched, joints popping. “Want me to make breakfast?”

“No.” Ignis cracked open his Ebony. “But I’m keeping it simple today. We need to move to an outpost or a town as soon as possible. I don’t want to run the risk of being caught out here for another night.”

They ate a quick breakfast of eggs on toast. The food revitalised them, giving them the energy to quickly pack up camp. Gladio carried it back to the car, grateful the Haven was well within sight of the road. Prompto helped while Ignis dragged a barely conscious Noctis out of the tent. Actually, it seemed more likely that Noctis was sleep-walking. He didn’t respond to any attempts at conversation, and walked wherever he was guided to without complaint. It was impossible to tell if he even had his eyes open. Ignis helped him into the car, where he sprawled, boneless, over the back seat. When they were ready to leave, Gladio had to act as Noctis’ cushion.

Not that he wasn’t willing after his friend had risked his life for him last night.

They drove through the beautiful woodland of southern Duscae. Ignis kept the pace slow. Gladio figured he was headed for the Cauthess Outpost. He didn’t ask. Nobody spoke. They were all too tired. Eyes heavy, Gladio watched the scenery sliding by. His eyes slid shut, and the next thing he knew, Prompto was shaking him awake. 

“We’re here,” he said. “Cauthess. Caravan’s ours. Ignis is inside. You want a hand with Noct?”

“Nah, I got him. Go on ahead.”Prompto walked away. Gladio got out of the car, and reached back in for Noctis. “Hey, you gonna wake up?”

Noctis didn’t reply.

Gladio hauled him out of the car, cradling him and carrying him into the caravan. Ignis and Prompto stepped aside so Gladio could take Noctis down to the beds. Once he was tucked up, Gladio turned back to the others. “I think we’re gonna be here for a day or so.”

Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“Me neither.” Prompto kicked his boots off and placed them under the table. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

Five minutes later, all four were fast asleep again.

* * *

The sound of a barking dog jolted Noctis awake. He launched himself upright, heart pounding in his chest like he’d left something half-finished. What was it? Had he left the oven on? Forgotten to do his homework? Missed a meeting? Skipped out on an important training session? Confusion swamped him as he found himself staring at unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn’t his apartment or even the Citadel. This was… 

“Ah, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

Blinking slowly, Noctis looked at Ignis who sat at a table not too far away. He got to his feet. He felt strange. His skin felt like it was stretched too thin over his bones. Brain in a fog, he stood, unsteady, and saw he was covered in bandages. “What’s going on?”

That, apparently, wasn’t what Ignis wanted to hear. Concern flashed through his eyes. “Noct? Are you alright?”

“I don’t… Where am I?”

Ignis moved to his side, guiding him gently along a narrow galley to a small table. “Sit. Take a moment to get your bearings.”

“Bearings?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Last?” He put his heavy head on his arms, only to lift it back off when he realised something had cut his arms to shreds. “I dunno, Ignis. I’m tired.”

Ignis’ hand rested against his forehead. “Yes, and I imagine that fever isn’t much fun.”

“Fever?”

Ignis sighed. “Stay here. I’m going to get you some medicine.”

Already in a doze, Noctis listened to Ignis moving around. It suddenly occurred to him that Gladio and Prompto weren’t there. Why? What had – The fog cleared. Memory locked into place. Noctis sat bolt upright. “The Reapers!” His heart galloped beneath his ribcage. “Ignis! The Reapers! They’re –”

“Dead,” Ignis said. “All of them. By your hand.”

“Prompto? Gladio?”

“Gone out for supplies. You’ve been running a rather high fever for the past few days, and we’ve all been rather too tired to do much until now. Death spells are certainly nasty.”

Noctis swallowed hard. “They’re okay? You’re okay?”

“We’re fine. Thanks to you.” Ignis held out a glass of water and two small pills. Noctis took the medicine and drank the water in seconds. “We’ve claimed the bounty, too,” Ignis said. “For the Reapers. Nobody asked for an Iron Giant to be taken out, so I’m afraid you did that for free.”

“For free?” An Iron Giant? When was there an Iron Giant?

Ignis smiled. “Perhaps we should wait for that fever to break before you try to do any serious thinking.”

But it was there. The memory. Peeking out from beneath a cloud in his head. “The Axe,” Noctis said. “I used the Axe.” He flexed his hands. “It’s the most powerful weapon I have.”

“And also one of the most dangerous,” Ignis said. “Why did you use it?”

Noctis shrugged. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Ignis accepted this with a nod. “Definitely a weapon to save for the most dire of circumstances,” he said.

“Yeah,” Noctis said, slumping back in his chair. “Hey, Ignis?”

“Yes?”

“I haven’t gone grey, have I?”

“Not that I can see. Why?”

“The Axe. It drained me. I could feel it.” He smiled sadly. “Thought maybe it’d aged me. Like Dad.”

“No,” Ignis said gently. “But it did drain you. You’ve barely been awake these past few days.”

“I don’t remember anything,” Noctis said.

“Unsurprising.”

Noctis closed his eyes. “I’m glad you’re all alright.”

“As am I,” Ignis said.

“I’m tired,” Noctis said.

“Come along.” Ignis grabbed him and helped him back to his feet. “Back to bed.”

Noctis didn’t argue. He fell back into his cocoon of pillows and blankets. He couldn’t fight sleep’s siren call. “Wake me up when Gladio and Prompto get back.” 

“I’ll try,” Ignis said.

“Good.” Seconds later, Noctis was out cold again. 

He didn’t feel Ignis searching his head for grey hairs under the pretence of checking his temperature. Finding none, Ignis relaxed. He brushed Noctis’ hair back from his forehead. “Please,” he begged the Kings and Queens of Old. “Don’t take him from us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! See you on Friday for the next Fanfic Friday!
> 
> Find me over on Tumblr at [BreakfastTeaTime](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/)


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